Strephon's Palinode

Sweet, I do not pardon crave,
Till I have
By deserts this fault amended:
This, I only this desire.
That your ire
May with penance be suspended.

Not my will, but Fate, did fetch
Me, poor wretch,
Into this unhappy error;
Which to plague, no tyrant's mind
Pain can find
Like my heart's self-guilty terror.

Then, O then, let that suffice!
Your dear eyes
Need not, need not more afflict me;
Nor your sweet tongue, dipped in gall,
Need at all
From your presence interdict me.

Unto him that Hell sustains,
No new pains
Need be sought for his tormenting.
Oh! my pains Hell's pains surpass;
Yet, alas!
You are still new pains inventing.

By my love, long, firm, and true,
Borne to you;
By these tears my grief expressing;
By this pipe, which nights and days
Sounds your praise;
Pity me, my fault confessing.

Or, if I may not desire,
That their ire
May with penance be suspended;
Yet let me full pardon crave,
When I have,
With soon death my fault amended.